


A Change of Faith

by ke_xia



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ke_xia/pseuds/ke_xia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athelstan's crisis of faith has come to a head. He has decided to confront God about his abandonment and to give him a test of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Faith

There was a niggling voice at the back of his mind told him he was wrong in doing this. That he had been taught not to test God. That he would surely be punished for it. But God had tested him so much. Why could he not test back? Athelstan had finally had enough.

He had climbed up onto the cliff that overlooked the bay near the village where Ragnar’s farm stood. He sat on the cold stone for a while, knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He ignored the way the cold wind whipped at his face, sending his curls fluttering into his eyes then right back out just a moment later.

 

The priest stared out over the water, at the mountains that surrounded them, his brows drawn together. “I have done nothing, _nothing_ to deserve this,” he spoke. He didn’t soften his voice. No one could hear him up here. No one knew he was here. They thought he’d gone out for a walk. And he had. But fresh air hadn’t been all he’d had in mind. “Even after I was taken, I continued to serve You. I refused the temptations placed before me. I was kind to my captors. I have served them while continuing to love You. I have read the Gospel, prayed to You day and night. Why have you abandoned me?”

Hot tears stung his icy cheeks, but he ignored them, searching for some sort of sign that God was listening. “You would say these people are heathens and sinners. They murder the innocent, steal from the poor. But they have taken care of me. _You_ placed me here! What was your plan?! These _heathens_ have loved me more than my own God!” He grew angrier, his voice raising.

At last, Athelstan stood and inched toward the edge of the cliff. “You have abandoned me in a foreign land with foreign gods! Perhaps you are not real. Perhaps you never were. It is the heathens’ gods who truly exist, is it?” The air whipped harder at him, made him stumble sideways just a little.

“Answer me!” he screamed into the wind. “Answer me if you are real!” He stood at the edge of the stone, gazing down down at the water so far below. Then he brought his eyes up to the heavens, searching for an answer. “If you are real, then make me fly! If you have not abandoned me, then save me from my death.”

~~

Ragnar eyed the game board in front of him with an expressionless face, watching Bjorn’s face from the corner of his eye. Then with a broad smile, he moved his piece and stole away one of his son’s.

“Father!” Bjorn groaned. “You cheated!”

The Viking gasped and glared across the table at his son. “I do not cheat. You put your piece in a stupid place, boy.”

Bjorn pouted and Ragnar threw his head back in laughter, only to be cut off as a cacophony of birds rang out outside the house. Lagertha surged forward and pushed open the door, the rest of her family moving behind her to see what was going on. Outside there were two ravens crowing wildly and circling, nearly flying right in through the open door. Ragnar’s eyes widened. He had seen things like this before. _Ravens. Odin._ Odin was here to tell him something, and Ragnar ready to listen.

He pushed past his wife and stepped out into the cool autumn air. “What is it, Odin, Father?” he asked, watching the ravens. They fluttered around his head and for a moment he thought they were going to peck at his face. But then they took off, seemingly flying away. Ragnar frowned, feeling like he had missed an important message as he watched them leave. As the birds grew smaller and smaller, he realized there was something beyond them.

“Priest?” he wondered softly, watching as the figure moved toward the edge of the cliff. What was he doing up there? He watched as the man tilted his head up to the sky, could see the way his dark hair whipped in the wind that blew so roughly up there. Ragnar spun on his wife and children, who had followed him out and were now watching the very same scene as him. “Get the boat. Be ready- just in case,” he told them quickly.

Then he grabbed his cloak from inside the house and took off running for the cliff. He’d been up there so many times himself when he’d needed to think. He had spent time there recently, after the attack by Haroldson’s men after he had been found not guilty of murdering the bastard Knut. But he never went so close to the edge. It was windy up there, and dangerous. The rock was always falling away. What did the damned priest think he was doing?

Ragnar was panting heavily by the time he made it up onto the cliff, and now he could hear Athelstan shouting. “Priest!” he called out, carefully moving forward, his cloak pulled tight around him. Gods, it was freezing up here. “Get back from there, you fool!”

Athelstan’s tears were blown away in the wind almost as soon as they left his eyes. He didn’t register Ragnar’s voice calling out to him. He was sobbing softly now, ready to take the plunge. Ready to see whether or not God really cared. “Still no answer for me?” he called out. “Then let this be _Your_ test!”

Ragnar could see it in the way his muscles tensed before he actually moved. Athelstan’s foot began to lift up off the ground, but before he could lean forward, the Viking rushed forward and threw his arms around the man, then threw both their weight backwards as he fell back onto the hard stone.

The priest let out a wail and struggled against him. “Athelstan!” Ragnar shouted, wrapping his legs around the other’s to try to hold him still. The man was shivering, icy cold to the touch. The Viking pulled his cloak around them both and held onto his priest until he finally stopped struggling.

Athelstan melted into Ragnar’s hold, his head falling back against his master’s shoulder, the racking sobs no longer shaking his body. His hands held tight to Ragnar’s wrists, holding onto him like a lifeline. “He wouldn’t answer,” he cried softly. “He has abandoned me.”

Ragnar was still for a moment, then finally, he sat up, gathered his priest in close, then stood. He moved away from the edge of the cliff, back into the protection of the trees, and sat back down on the softer ground. It was a little warmer here, with the giant tree trunks blocking out most of the nasty wind that whipped at them. Very much unlike him, Athelstan curled into the warmth of Ragnar’s chest and pressed his face into his master’s neck as he cried. His hands fisted in Ragnar’s shirt, clinging tightly to him.

“You are wrong, priest,” Ragnar told him softly, one hand rubbing up and down the man’s side while the other clutched his cloak tight around them. “You have not been abandoned.”

“I have. He abandoned me. He doesn’t care,” he cried, voice muffled against the warm skin of Ragnar’s throat.

“Odin cares for you, Athelstan,” Ragnar responded. He brought his hand up, letting it poke out of the cloak so he could run his fingers through the quaking priest’s hair. “Odin sent his ravens to show me the way to you. You might have died if he had not warned me. Your God would not have saved you, but mine did. You are loved. You are precious to the gods.”

Slowly, Athelstan raised his head. Swollen, bloodshot eyes peered out at him from under the messy curls that lay across his forehead. “Truly?” he asked, unsure. “Odin?”

Ragnar smiled and dipped his head, leaning his forehead against the priest’s. “Odin. And he is not the only one who finds you precious.”

The priest’s brows drew together in confusion, and the Viking had to let out a soft laugh. He pressed a kiss to Athelstan’s nose, and for once, the other didn’t make a face or shrink away from him. Emboldened, Ragnar dropped his hand to Athelstan’s chin and gently raised it up. Then he brushed a kiss over the priest’s lips, smiling when he felt Athelstan relax against him, even lean a little into the kiss.

Ragnar pulled back just a little then, pressing his lips to the other’s forehead now. “You are precious to _me_ ,” he whispered. “Promise you’ll not do that again?”

“I promise,” Athelstan answered.

“Good. Let us go home. It is freezing up here.”

They got up, but Ragnar did not let Athelstan go far. He kept an arm around his waist, held him close with the cloak still around him, and they walked together back down to the farm.


End file.
